Glimpse at the Tear
by agentjedi
Summary: On their way back to Naboo, Anakin proposes to Padmé.


**TITLE:** Glimpse at the Tear  
**AUTHOR:** agentj  
**CHARACTERS:** Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Nabarrie  
**STATUS:** complete  
**DATE WRITTEN:** 27 February 2006  
**TIMEFRAME:** Post-_Attack of the Clones_  
**SUMMARY:** On their way back to Naboo, Anakin proposes to Padmé.  
**CONTENT WARNING:** none

* * *

Anakin faced the wall and flexed his new metallic appendage again, watching the fingers move to his thoughts, and checked the exposed gears and biomechanoid joints to what remained of his real arm. The emergency medroid on Geonosis had only this temporary arm to replace the other. Obi-Wan suggested he wait until they were back on Coruscant to attach a proper arm, but Anakin would have none of it. The temporary arm would do. The escape of the Separatists—especially Nute Gunray and the other Trade Federation cronies—put the senator's life at risk. Anakin was determined to finish his assignment.

Or at least that's the excuse he used to convince his master. Obi-Wan looked him over pensively, but with the medroid poking and prodding the Jedi Master's sabre burns with bacta, he conceded the issue and watched as the new arm was attached. Anakin insisted on remaining fully conscious during the whole operation. Not that general anaesthetic was needed, anyway. The laser sword left clean cuts of the nerves, and cauterised all the blood vessels, leaving nearly a perfect surface from which to work.

The medroid assured the two Jedi that a more permanent arm could be attached to the biomechanoid joints at a later time. It was of no consequence to Anakin at that moment. Since boarding the medical vessel, the only person who mattered to Anakin had been pulled away by duty and an urgent comm from her attaché, Jar Jar Binks. The only way to escape the scrutiny of his master's gaze in order to be with her again was to feign obligation to duty, a desire to complete his mission, and a hardened heart.

Now back on Padmé's yacht, Anakin feared his act was a little _too_ convincing. Although once underway, she had been more than polite, offering Threepio to pilot the ship for him, but Anakin felt as if Padmé were brushing him off than actually caring about his well-being. After a couple hours of silence in the pilot's chair, he feigned an ache in his upper arm and made his way to the stern, pretending to test his new arm.

Looking over his shoulder, Anakin noted that Padmé had only made a cursory glance from the co-pilot's chair before returning her gaze to the dull readouts on her panel. He watched a moment longer to see her suck almost absently on her lower lip. Something he noticed she did subconsciously, and until now, this very moment, it used to drive him wild with anticipation and eager lust.

Anakin suddenly found the floor plating more interesting to contemplate.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._ One word repeated over and over in his head. That night by the fire where he poured his heart out replayed in his head. If it were physically possible, Anakin would have swallowed his boots whole. Every stupid line he uttered wound around his heart as he remembered trying to liken his thoughts to poetic phrases that would, he hoped, melt her heart. Instead, she had slapped him across the face with reality.

_And what of the arena?_ his hopes bobbed to the surface like the pretty little rainbow fish that swam the glassy waters around the lake retreat.

_Lies!_ his burdened heart responded, despondent. Obi-Wan was right, after all, his heart realised as it sank to the bottomless pit inside of him. Politicians knew how to speak the words their audience wanted to hear. It won them votes, gave them leverage, and offered false hopes in times of despair. Padmé only said what she did at that moment so he wouldn't die with a broken heart.

But he didn't die. And neither did she.

So here they were in this awkward situation, both alive, with this albatross. He decided he would escort the senator back to her lake retreat and return to the temple promptly. She had insisted she would be safe there; no one but her own family knew where it was exactly, right? He would cite that there was a war to be won, and go. Then nothing would need to be said, and—

Anakin was taken suddenly from his plans to find Padmé had left her seat, Threepio now in command of the vessel. She faced Anakin with a rather worrisome look of determination on her face.

He didn't want to hear what she had to say. Squaring his shoulders, he announced, "Look. I want to finish my mission and get you back to Naboo safely. After that, I'm gone. You don't have to worry yourself about—"

"Gone?" Padmé looked even more apprehensive than before, her delicate brow twisting and turning on her forehead.

_Damn._ He hated that frustrated look. He saw her do it only once before on the senate floor when she was obviously losing the debate against the Aarakian delegate. Anakin couldn't even remember what it was they had been debating, all he remembered was that look of helplessness that made him want to impetuously run across the dais and wrap his arms around her, and—

_Stop. Just stop,_ he chided and steeled himself with a deep breath. "Yes. Gone." That was as much as he could will himself to say before Padmé placed a warm hand on his real arm and rubbed it gently. Her eyes traced his gangly frame as if drinking in the sight of him.

"You don't have to pretend you care about me anymore—" he tried again.

"What?" she looked confusedly up at him. "Anakin. What are you talking about?"

His eyes widened slightly as he regarded her. He swallowed. "What are you talking about?" Anakin threw the question back at her, trying hard to downplay his nervousness and confusion. It always worked against Obi-Wan.

Padmé's head shook slightly as she responded, "You think I was lying to you?" Hurt filled her sable eyes. Anakin's heart physically squeezed tight to see such pain—pain that he put there.

She turned and walked a step from him, continuing, "When I—when I came to after falling out of the command carrier, I—" Padmé stopped and half-turned to face him, but her eyes were unfocused. "—I knew you and Obi-Wan had gone on to stop Dooku. I...I was afraid I'd never see you again."

Anakin took a step forward, bending his head down to peer at her eyes. Tears glistened at the edges, trapped like dew in her lashes.

"I thought— When you— I mean—" Anakin stumbled over words.

With a suddenness that surprised even himself, Anakin clasped Padmé with both of his hands, flesh and metal, and turned her round to face him. "Padmé," he spoke with determination, "Marry me."

"What?" Padmé blinked, and a tear traced down her dusty cheek.

Instinctively, Anakin lifted his new metallic hand to her face and wiped it away. He glimpsed at the tear and the smudge it left behind, then back into her face. Padmé's eyes were wide, pupils dilated and unwavering as they focused solely into his own. For the first time, Anakin knew what to do. There would be no code, no plan, no worrying about what Obi-Wan would think. From this moment forward, Anakin would only live to feel—he would feel everything.

"Tomorrow I have to go back to Coruscant. I have to fight this war against the Separatists and bring peace to the Republic. But I cannot go knowing there is this hole inside of me. Padmé, you are the missing piece of me. I cannot live without you. Please...tell me you will devote your life to mine, that we can live forever as one, though we may be apart."

As Anakin spoke, Padmé's face changed from confusion to exhilaration to incredulousness, like a summer storm raging across the plains of Naboo. Breathless, she lifted her fingers to his face and pulled him close, passionately pressing her lips to his.

Anakin's world spun as he wrapped his arms tightly around Padmé's warm soft curves. His temporary arm couldn't feel the way her back hollowed to press herself tighter into his embrace, but he could feel the way the Force buzzed around them like a purring engine of a starfighter. For a moment, Anakin lost himself in that sensation, and it was better than any piloting trick he knew. It was better than balancing his blade in the most strenuous of katas. It was more encompassing than the deepest meditation he ever shared with Obi-Wan. It was more thrilling than winning Boonta Eve at the age of nine.

Their lips parted as the two lovers panted for a breath, and Anakin whispered, "Does that mean yes?"

All Padmé could do was laugh. Then she kissed him again.


End file.
